


we got a lot of things to do now

by dicaeopolis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, alternate universe - street racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: “Get your greasy handprints on my car and I’ll murder you,” Kuroo tells him cheerfully.Bokuto slides into the driver’s seat, pulls the door shut behind him, and grins out the window at his mechanic.“Ourcar, thanks. Kiss for luck?”





	we got a lot of things to do now

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINALLY PART OF A 4-SEASON FIC FOR THE BAK WEEK PROMPT "SEASONS" BUT WINTER AND SPRING WERE MAKING ME SAD TO WRITE SO HERE IS AUTUMN. [summer is over here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11493585) written to fun, fun, fun by the beach boys.
> 
> THANKS TO TAWNI FOR LOOKING THIS OVER. DID U KNOW I LOVE U
> 
> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis/status/885611725810274305)/[tumblr](http://vivasimplemindedness.tumblr.com/post/162953068528/we-got-a-lot-of-things-to-do-now)!

On nights like these, the wind whistles down the streets between the city’s skyscrapers, sharp enough to nip with fresh autumn teeth. Bokuto opens his mouth to taste the air - tastes like noise, and gasoline, and the turbo-powered rush of adrenaline.

The pit is a block or so away from the starting line, and the two of them are the last ones left in it. Bokuto’s bouncing from foot to foot with excitement, and all that shows of Kuroo is a pair of legs sticking out from under the black Corvette. “Kuroo, babe, it’s  _ almost time-” _

“I’m done, I’m done,” says the underside of the car. Kuroo slides out, revealing a face smudged with grease, and stands up, cracking his neck. “Don’t think too hard about the mods, mmkay? You just need to hit the gas.”

“Uh huh, whatever.” Bokuto thumps the back of the car like it’s the flank of a horse. “Alright, off we go!”

“Get your greasy handprints on my car and I’ll murder you,” Kuroo tells him cheerfully.

Bokuto slides into the driver’s seat, pulls the door shut behind him, and grins out the window at his mechanic.  _ “Our _ car, thanks. Kiss for luck?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but he still braces his hands on the driver’s door above the open window and bends down. it’s the perfect angle for Bokuto to reach up and grasp Kuroo’s chin with one gloved hand, black leather on tanned skin. Kuroo kisses him firmly, once and again, and they only break apart when Bokuto can’t hold back his widening smile against Kuroo’s lips.

“Gonna make me miss my race,” Bokuto singsongs as Kuroo straightens up.

“And whose fault is that, you old charmer?” Kuroo shoots back. Bokuto just laughs at him, and then his face is disappearing behind the roll-up of the tinted window and the Vette roars to life.

_ God. _ Bokuto might never get used to this - the raw power under the hood, rumbling up through his seat and thrumming in the tiny pockets of oxygen in his lungs. When his gloved hands touch the wheel, they tingle with electricity.

Clutch, shift, release, and - gas. Bokuto rolls up to the line, where someone’s holding up a pair of flags. Yukie Shirofuku, a high school classmate of his who got sucked in by the smoky allure of street racing almost as soon as he did.

The street isn’t wide - just enough to fit four cars across. There’s Bokuto’s Vette, and two others he knows by sight - Tanaka Saeko’s brash red Mustang, Kiyoko Shimizu’s sleek silver Maserati. And one other - a flat black Mazda, so matte that Bokuto’s eyes nearly miss it. The windows of the Mazda are tinted so dark that he can’t even catch the silhouette of the driver.

No matter. Bokuto was the last one to the line, and Yukie is raising both flags above her head. Outside the car, over the growl of the idling engine, Bokuto can hear the muffled noise of the crowd counting down -  _ five, four, three _ \- he sucks in a breath -  _ two, one _ -

_ Zero. _

The flags drop. Bokuto’s gas pedal slams down against the metal. The Vette snarls and leaps forward, so fast his head slams back against the headrest with whiplash - oh, Kuroo is  _ good. _ Bokuto laughs in sheer exhilaration as he shoots past Yukie and the crowd disappears in a flash in his rearview. From here, it’s just the four of them and the curling shadows of the city night.

The course is a long loop tonight, which gives Bokuto the advantage. He’s been racing these streets since he and Kuroo were high schoolers with a shitty Camaro and shittier attitudes. Saeko and Kiyoko fall behind almost immediately - Saeko has terrifying horsepower but the handicap of unfamiliarity with the streets, and Kiyoko’s one hell of a driver but Azumane isn’t half the mechanic that Kuroo is. Bokuto leans into the first turn, bracing his left foot against the floor of the car. A quick glance in the rearview shows him the Mustang and the Maserati, battling it out for second-

No.  _ Third. _ It only takes a split second for the damn Mazda to edge up out of Bokuto’s blind spot -  _ shit, how long had they been sitting there? _ \- and whip out ahead of the Vette.

Bokuto cries out in indignancy and presses down the gas pedal again. The Mazda is fast, but the Vette is a beast unleashed when Bokuto’s in the driver’s seat. He squints up at the Mazda - no plate, of course, what they’re doing is anything but legal - they’re coming into the final stretch, and Bokuto can’t even make out if there’s a driver there at all-

He pours on another burst of speed, mouth set in a grim line. The Mazda is still accelerating, too, but Bokuto manages to edge up next to them, craning his neck dangerously away from the road to catch a glimpse of whoever the hell the driver is. The lights and crowds are drawing closer ahead, along with the finish line -  _ so close, Koutarou, _ Bokuto reminds himself, he’s just gotta pull out ahead of the Mazda and hold off the Crown Vic in his rearview-

The Crown Vic with  _ blue and red lights _ flashing in his rearview-

_ “Shit,” _ Bokuto hisses through his teeth, and slams his pedal down as his heart flips up into his throat. He shoots ahead as the Mazda begins to slow and splits off into a side alley, with the cop following closely on their rear bumper.

Bokuto doesn’t let up on the gas until he’s shot through the finish line and skidded up to the pit. The passenger door opens, and Kuroo drops in, hanging from the oh-shit handle like an oversized dark bat. “Nice race, hotshot-”

“Pigs,” says Bokuto, wild-eyed.

“A victory lap sounds good,” Kuroo says smoothly, buckling his seatbelt.

He doesn’t have to say it twice. The Vette’s tires screech on the pavement, and they’re gone.

They don’t take the exact same route around the city. Bokuto winds amongst the roads through all their old haunts, one hand tangled together with Kuroo’s on the console, nervous fingers fluttering and twisting in his. “The Mazda,” he says, “the person in the Mazda - would’ve had me beat if the pigs hadn’t shown up-”

Kuroo turns and studies Bokuto’s profile carefully, then squeezes his hand. “Wanna go find ‘em?”

“What?” Bokuto’s fingers go still, and he glances away from the road to frown at Kuroo. “The driver?”

“We can’t let go of a rival like that,” Kuroo points out. “And they couldn’t have gone far, yeah?”

"Huh,” says Bokuto, and two turns later, they’re back on the night’s course.

True to Kuroo’s words, it doesn’t take them long to track down the Mazda. It’s parked in the alleyway, with an ugly yellow boot locked around its front driver wheel. Leaning against its hood, there’s the driver, speaking low and urgent into the phone pressed to their ear.

They’re pretty tall, slim legs wrapped in black leather, jacket unzipped over a simple white t-shirt. Pretty gorgeous, too. Thick black curls, sharp eyeliner, high cheekbones better suited to royalty than some back-alley street racer. Their eyes narrow in recognition as the Vette rolls up next to their alleyway, and when Kuroo looks out, he lets out a low whistle.

_ “Yeah,” _ says Bokuto, vehemently.

The driver says something into their phone and then ends the call as Kuroo rolls down the passenger window of the Vette. They step up before either Kuroo or Bokuto can say anything, though. “If you’ve come to gloat, please get it over with.”

Their voice is low, quiet, smoky - oh, this is  _ definitely _ the best idea Kuroo’s had in a while. “Figured you might need a ride!” Bokuto says, flashing a bright smile.

“I’m fine, thanks,” the driver says, without hesitation. “My backup is on his way-”

“You can’t have much time before the cops are back, yeah?” Bokuto’s known Kuroo long enough to know when he’s taking shots in the dark, but judging by the sour twist in the driver’s lips, he’s hit the nail on the head. “C’mon, hop in.”

“I-” The driver’s face is tipping between  _ irritated _ and  _ bewildered. _ “You don’t even have a backseat in that thing.”

Kuroo leans back, gestures to his lap. Bokuto can’t see his face, but he can  _ hear _ the smirk in Kuroo’s voice as he says, “That doesn’t have to be a problem, eh?”

It’s sleazy as all hell, and judging by the driver’s incredulous stare, they agree. But Bokuto’s seen Kuroo’s lazy smirk work more improbable miracles than this, and he waits patiently, drumming his fingers on the wheel and holding back his own smile.

“...Okay,” says the driver, finally. “Okay.”

And now Bokuto has to turn his head away, cause there’s  _ no way _ he can keep hiding his grin as the driver ducks into the car and fits themself into Kuroo’s lap.

Kuroo loops his free arm around their waist, and the driver’s eyes flick down to Kuroo’s other hand, still intertwined loosely with Bokuto’s on the console. But they don’t say anything - they just settle back against Kuroo, who’s smiling into their neck.

They can talk about that later, Bokuto decides. Instead, he just hits the gas. The Vette springs forward, and Bokuto laughs aloud at the driver’s sharp intake of breath as they speed off into the city night.


End file.
